Catfacehorse

I finally bit the bullet and bought a sewing machine. I bought a pack of stunning fabrics at Ink & Spindle’s open studio recently, and figured I would just sew with it up at my sister’s place. I whipped together this clutch (from Amy Karol’s wonderful book, Bend the Rules Sewing) in around twenty minutes while I was over for dinner a week ago.  I got itchy fingers to make more things, at a more leisurely pace.  After idly window shopping online, I found a place selling the same model as my sister’s machine (a simple, reliable Janome). A phone call later, and I had a machine ready to be delivered.   Only problem is I have been too busy this weekend to get my hands on to it.  I am clearing my diary for next weekend, nothing’s going to stop me. I have washed a stack of fabrics ready to go.  The next step is working out what to sew. Something simple? Clothes or a bag? I have also been ogling a few patterns online, like this stunning dress from Anna Maria Horner.  I had better warm up on a few smaller projects first. If all goes according to plan, I should have a few new things to show here next week. Wish me luck!

I had a lovely quiet walk around my neighbourhood recently, taking Owen’s camera with me. Walking is one of the few things I enjoy doing my own, I let my mind wander and possibilities pop up effortlessly.

I live in a pretty industrial suburb, but there are so many beautiful little nooks and crannies if you look closely.  I can see a branch heavy with blossom poking over a corrugated iron fence, or a weathered door in the middle of a back alley. Secret gardens and bluestone cobbles soften the edges around here.

A weekend or so ago I went back to my little home town of Hobart - the capital city of Tasmania, a state with a population of only 500,000 people.  One of the things I miss about Hobart is the amazing winter sunshine.  You can’t find those clear and piercing days in Melbourne, where winter tends towards the grey and damp.  It is, of course, much colder there - it was 3 degrees celsius when we touched down at the airport at 9.30 in the morning.

A lovely time was had by Owen and myself, with just the right amount of visiting and relaxing. One of the biggest treats was lunch with my Grandmother - my arts and style icon. She has moved from a fabulous heritage-listed big house-on-a-hill to a supported unit, but it still feels like home, filled with Persian rugs, paintings and etchings, and of course, fresh flowers on the table.  We had wine and pickles, cheese and bread, and an incredible home-made soup (another particular talent).  Bliss.